Metal Gear: At the Gates
by joedooey42069
Summary: A young Russian man must find out about his past while thwarting a madmans dream...
1. Walkway to Hell

At the Gates A novel in the world of Metal Gear Solid® by joedooey42069  
  
"I'll see you in Hell!"  
  
10,000 volts of pure electricity were sent down her spine, touching her very core itself. The world flashed white and red and blue violently.  
  
"Stay........alive............." The words managed to leave her mouth. "You must........live..................if you........die.......my baby.......dies....too...."  
  
And then a bullet pierced her skull. A two and a half inch piece of welded metal put a final end to the former leader of the Gurlukovich Mercenary Unit.  
  
The last thing she heard was the metallic clink of her dog tags brushing the ground. A face appeared then; pale with beautiful blonde hair...... a little Russian boy? No, it was the man they called Raiden..... from FOXHOUND.....  
  
......Sergei....... I'm coming...........  
  
A sweet bliss enveloped the warrior as she expelled her final breath, a translucent cloud on the night sky.  
  
*~*~*  
  
What was the frequency?  
  
Ah. Yes, it was 142.06. How could he forget?  
  
It was happening a lot frequently, this forgetfulness; a separate self blocking his mind. He was there, evermore resounding with each passing day. Was it a 'he'? A 'her'? An 'it'?  
  
An immense loneliness struck him then; he had lost someone today.... no, not today...... long ago, he lost part of himself..........  
  
Forget about it, Sergei. You've got a war to fight. Mother Russia is calling you; you must fight. Forget about it.  
  
"Crimson Bear, reporting no sightings south of Regule's Line. Commencing Assault Hypox 30. White Devil over and out."  
  
"Roger, White Devil. Commence."  
  
The blonde-haired man made his way precarious step by precarious step into the minefield. A cloaked man in front about 20 yards turned every so often from his monitor and motioned for the soldiers to continue their trek.  
  
A slow, crawling hour passed before the men reached the other side. They rested briefly under the shade of the trees. White Devil grasped his dog tags and regarded them. They read:  
  
SERGEI NIKOLAI GURLUKOVICH  
  
BLOOD TYPE: O  
  
D.O.B.: 4/30/2008  
  
"Sergei! Time is running short! We must continue up the road!"  
  
Who had the insolence to call him by his name? Who was it? His steely eye's glazed over his men until he found the right one. When he did, he almost had to laugh.  
  
It was none other than the deaf minesweeper. He had no knowledge that Sergei wished to be referred to only as White Devil. He let it pass and continued up the road to the Hills.  
  
If only the Hills could speak. What would they say? "Our country, torn apart with a vengeance; our people, taught to hate? A supernatural balance at one time, then split open like a Faberge egg cascading from its rightful place on a shelf?  
  
"But a beacon, a hope that appears with the revival of the egg, a glue that bonds all broken ties together; a Savior."  
  
And now that beacon shone through in the town of Arkhangel'sk. Northwestern Russia was not feeling as little of the effects as one would expect from the war, even though China was a good thousand or two miles away.  
  
Sergei's men continued until the Hills faded behind them, and the dark gray skyline of Arkhangel'sk danced into view. Sergei motioned for his men to prepare their weapons for confrontation. They stopped close to an old metal gate. His ears twitched, and he faintly picked up the sound of Chinese banter from close to 100 yards away. Sergei prided himself on his long distance hearing.  
  
The sun had begun its descent behind the Hills, casting an eerie rust color on the world. Sergei quickly flicked his head back and the men cascaded through the opening in the gate and up the trail.  
  
After about a half a minute, the Chinese sentry guards appeared. There were only 8 of them on the ground, but the keen Russian knew several of them were equipped with adaptive stealth camouflage, which blended the user in with the surroundings, rendering them "invisible".  
  
To combat this, Sergei had his men take out their thermal goggles and locate the Chinese users. Carefully sniped bullets, so as to not allow the targets to crash to the ground, knocked out a half of the guard squadron.  
  
Sergei's men had grown impatient and opted for a full - scale assault on the Front Gateway to Arkhangel'sk. Sergei, however, was an ever patient man trained in the art of self - relaxation.  
  
Yet he also knew that speed was of the essence in this matter, so he decided to quicken their pace. Each one of the men donned their camouflage gear and disappeared into the woodlands.  
  
One minute and thirty six seconds later, eight more Chinese men fell prisoner to the fiberglass / tungsten alloy bullet that pierced their temples. Their bodies were stealthily dragged into the forests and placed near the bases of the trees.  
  
Sergei Gurlukovich led his men through the Front Gateway into Arkhangel'sk. The initial step was complete; the Takeover had begun.  
  
142.06 was quickly tuned in on Sergei's X - Codec Medvedj Version.  
  
"Crimson, this is White Devil. Front Gateway to Arkhangel'sk has been achieved. Permission to take a break for discussion with my men, Sire."  
  
"Permission granted, Devil. Good work. This should throw them off for a bit. We've planted the fake distress call from somewhere near St. Petersburg. They'll fly right over you without even a second glance."  
  
"Yes, Sire. White Devil, over and out."  
  
Sergei clicked off his Codec and laid his head to rest against a broken marble pillar. His men rushed to him to aid him in any way, but he waved them off and asked for peace. Usually whatever Sergei asked for, he received. He let his mind drift to the current situation.  
  
In 2026, four years ago, Russia had been violently attacked and partially taken over by the Chinese. The whole escapade had resulted in rumors circulating constantly about the development of several new Metal Gears.  
  
Proof behind the rumor that Russia had obtained brand new Metal Gears was provided by an unknown source, and the Chinese had viciously overrun the surprised Russians. Moscow and St. Petersburg remained the two main cities not yet taken by the Chinese onslaught, as they were farther away from the border.  
  
Sergei's elite task force group, the Scarlet Wraiths, consisted of twelve of the best Russian soldier operatives ever to grace the land. Trained to kill first and ask questions later, they were known by few but feared by all that knew them. Organized by the Kremlin in 2027 to combat the growing concern over the Chinese, they had been going nonstop for 3 years. Placed in their command was a well-respected Russian officer referred to as 'Crimson Bear'.  
  
Sergei glanced at his CTD, Current Time Display, and noted the time and date. Wow. Today was April 30th, 2030, 7:20 PM. Sergei would be twenty - two years old in exactly one hour and forty minutes.  
  
His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the rough sound of Jeeps moving up the path. His men quickly found hiding spaces to observe. What the hell was anyone doing here? Who would be interested in an old, destroyed city?  
  
An entourage of dull gray vehicles with the symbolic silver dragon painted on them moved into view. Sergei briskly observed his men; none were in especially dangerous positions save himself. His only defense was a cracked granite oven lying on the ground, widely exposed on three sides. He must be careful.  
  
"This is where Liquidus told us to look.... was he lying?"  
  
"No. He does not lie."  
  
Six Chinese men began searching the perimeter of the clearing, obviously looking for something. It only took Sergei a second, however, to realize that the men were looking for them. Damn. Who the hell told them where they were? He quickly eliminated Crimson Bear; he would never betray them. Whoever it was, though, they would have to have been very close to the operation.....  
  
It was uncharacteristic for the Chinese to travel in groups, as they did just now. Most of the time separate factions of close to fifteen or twenty men were sent. Sergei roughly estimated around forty to fifty men in the Arkhangel'sk Gate.  
  
"They are here! I know it! We must not allow them to escape our grasp this time." Several Chinese officials began conversing irately.  
  
So that was it. They were collecting the Scarlet Wraiths for someone. "But who?" remained the question.  
  
Sergei quickly calculated in his mind that it would take about three minutes for the entire Wraith squadron to be discovered. He knew that the Chinese would not kill them if they were sent on a collection job. Sergei contacted his men on Codec.  
  
"White Devil, sir, what shall we do?"  
  
"They're not going to shoot at us. Someone sent them here to bring us back, and they're probably not going to want us dead. I figure we just try to take as many out as we can before they get us."  
  
"Yes, Sir. We're all ready and awaiting your command."  
  
"Okay. When I say 'Go', activate your stealth camouflage, count to three, and then begin. Ready..... GO!"  
  
ONE. Sergei quickly activated his camouflage attachment and loaded his gun, flicking the TWO safety off and cocking it. He was ready to defend himself for any cause.  
  
THREE.  
  
He leaped out from behind his hiding place and unloaded clips onto the Chinese men while his crew followed suit behind him. Several men fell to the ground, wailing cries of death. Some located the distorted view that the stealth camouflage left behind and fired as well. Sergei flattened himself against a wall and peered out through a crack.  
  
The Chinese general began laughing. "Hahaaa... I know what you're thinking, White Devil! But we don't need you alive, oh no. You're as good alive as you are dead to us! Hahahaha!"  
  
Sergei's temper flared. He rolled out towards a trio of approaching men and shot them each between the eyes, using a scant three bullets. Another approached from behind, and Sergei flipped expertly off the wall, landed behind his attacker, and drove his hunting knife deep between his shoulder blades.  
  
By now the Chinese had encircled the area where they knew the Scarlet Wraiths were. Thirty - eight men held thirty - eight fully loaded AK- 74SU's to the Wraiths' faces. Sergei flicked off his camouflage and motioned for his men to do the same. Slowly but surely, eleven other men materialized in the air and moved symbolically behind their leader.  
  
An old, wizened Chinese chief sauntered up to Sergei's face and spoke in the recognizable Chinese - English way.  
  
"I think we would all be happier if you followed us into the vehicle."  
  
God damn it, Sergei thought. They had been captured and had practically removed Mother Russia's most elite infantry from the ground.  
  
There was no use fighting it now, Sergei thought, as they were herded into the armored cars. They had been caught. The Scarlet Wraiths had been caught. 


	2. Jewels

The armored car rumbled softly down a dirt path, red and pink rays of light from the sunset blinding the men in it.  
  
Sergei closed his eyes and thought. Thought about how the Chinese could've known where they were, who told them. There was no way it was a lucky guess, because Arkhangel'sk was one of the most desolate places in all of Russia these days. And someone had told them... Li... Liquis something or other.  
  
"Here we are, friends," announced the old Chinese chief.  
  
Sergei and his men were roughly grabbed from the truck and led towards a poorly erected two - story building. The wind whipped up at their faces and drove sand into their eyes. Sergei quickly regarded the building and tried to note any possible exits from the building in case the need arose.  
  
A door opened up and Sergei walked through. A small, dimly lit room opened up before his eyes. He was seated at a small wooden table along with his Wraiths. They eyed each other nervously as a small door in the back of the room creaked open and a cloaked stranger emerged.  
  
Sergei sensed unease as the stranger untied his sash that bound the cloak to him. Two pale white hands pulled the cloak off gently. Now Sergei was getting seriously unnerved, as the man's boots clicked the ground with each passing step. His face still shrouded in shadow, he moved ever closer and closer to the table.  
  
Then the man's face materialized out of the dark, and Sergei could have swore his heart stopped for a brief second. He would've recognized the wispy pale gray hair and distinctive features anywhere.  
  
Before him stood the leader of the Scarlet Wraiths, Crimson Bear.  
  
Crimson looked each man in the room straight in the face. At a flick of his wrist, the Chinese vaporized into thin air. Each and every one simply vanished before their very eyes.  
  
Sergei leaped up, startled. "What the hell?!"  
  
"All an image. A recreation of true soldiers, but just a highly advanced VR Simulation. Takes advantage of the electromagnetic spectrum.... truly one of the marvels of modern science."  
  
Sergei eyed his commander inquisitively. "What are you doing here, sir?"  
  
Crimson Bear sat down and solemnly stared at the floor. A glance at Sergei and he started talking.  
  
"Sergei, do you know how you ended up as the greatest soldier on Russian soil?"  
  
"I worked very hard, toiled under my own sweat and blood to be transformed from a lowly orphan to the soldier I am today, sir."  
  
A chuckle escaped Crimson Bear's throat. "Sergei..... do you remember your mother?"  
  
Sergei searched deep within his soul for an answer. The feeling was their again, that feeling of loneliness, of another entity blocking his train of thought. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't say that I remember her at all."  
  
Crimson continued to stare at the floor. "I'd better tell you a few things about myself, Sergei. My real name is not Jakob Metriski. My real name is Jack.....Jack Raiden."  
  
"With all due respect, sir, why the hell do you have an American name?" A deep emphasis of contempt on the word 'American'.  
  
"Because I am an American, Sergei, born and raised."  
  
Sergei was stunned. "Well, sir, you certainly had me fooled." He couldn't believe it. The Americans had chosen to "stay out of this war", to quote President Hemingway.  
  
What was that? A flash ran before Sergei's eyes. A dream tantalized his mind's eye.... It was a dark, cloudy, rainy night...... a blackened structure loomed out of the night.....  
  
Raiden looked at Sergei now, with a sort of fatherly respect for the young man. "I figured that at twenty - two you would be old enough to understand. Sergei, its about your mother. Your whole past, to be precise. You need to know about it... now if not more than before.  
  
"Sergei, I moved to Russia to follow you. Call it what you want, but I did it as a favor to your mother. Your mother, Sergei, did not die in the fire that burned down your house. Your mother, Sergei.... her name is not Mishna. Her name is Olga."  
  
"Olga Gurlukovich? Leader of the Gurlukovich Mercenaries?"  
  
Raiden smiled. "That would be her."  
  
Sergei violently stood up and threw the chair backwards. "What the hell did you do to my mother?! Answer me, goddamn it!"  
  
Raiden backed away and aimed the Russian P-q4 automatic rifle directly between Sergei's eyes. "I knew this would happen. Sergei, I'm sorry...... I'm sorry about what I have to do right now...."  
  
In the blink of an eye, a dozen fully armed Chinese soldiers burst through the door and wrapped Sergei up in a dark mesh blanket. As he was dragged out of the door, he still heard Crim... Raiden muttering to himself.  
  
"I'm sorry..........so sorry, Sergei......."  
  
Sergei was thrown roughly into the back of a van. Seconds later the butt of a gun connected with his temple, sending him into a state of unconsciousness.  
  
The van rumbled off towards the horizon.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Back at the building, the solitary light flicked out, cascading the room around it into deep blackness. No sound arose from the depths.  
  
And almost immediately there appeared two sharp slits in the night sky, razors piercing through an impenetrable wall in front of them. A soft phantom of a scuttling noise echoed down the hallway.  
  
Then radio static came in and a smooth, rich Italian voice began speaking.  
  
"He is here, Shepherd..... Yes, I-...... You will be assured that he is not going anywhere for the time being.... Yes, Sir.......Yes. I understand. Widow out."  
  
The two gleaming jewels then focused on the floor, staring at an almost distinguishable gray figure on the floor.  
  
A screech and a swish duly noted the exit of the mysterious assailant into the oblivion of the night sky. The meter thick walls of the building failed in their attempt to stop the intruder from leaving.  
  
A soft whimper escaped from the lump on the floor.  
  
*~*~*  
  
"Wake the prisoner up. We're almost there."  
  
Sergei felt a stab in his arm as something was injected into him. Fire coursed through his veins. His vision came swimming back into view before his eyes, and he noted the van slowing to a halt. The tires crunched on something underneath... sounded like..... snow.  
  
No wonder I'm so cold, Sergei thought to himself. He tried to look at himself, but his head was bound tightly to the floor by some leather straps. His arms and legs were bound in the same fashion. He couldn't guess at how long he had been out, but it must have been a while for his arms and legs were aching with stiffness.  
  
As the truck stopped, Sergei heard everything that went on outside of the truck, even through the steel walls. It sounded like two men had emerged from the cabin of the van, one walking off into the distance, while one came closer to the sliding door in the back of the van where Sergei was being held.  
  
Locks unlatched and the blinding winter sun came streaming in to greet Sergei's hungry eyes. He blinked and focused on the man who was unlocking him from his bondages on the floor. He wore a dull green jumpsuit and had a mustache and long sideburns. Sergei knew it wasn't smart to try anything even close to escape under these circumstances. The man in front of him carried several fully - loaded Uzi sub - machine guns. Quite primitive guns, but enough for a lowly prisoner.  
  
Sergei also noted the appearance of two extra guards wielding the native Russian Pq-4 Assault Hybrid Rifle. He also noticed that once he was free, he couldn't move his arms and legs even if he wanted to; they must have been affected by the fire injection in his arm.  
  
The man slung Sergei over his shoulder like an oversized sack of potatoes. Sergei could not lift his head to look at his surroundings, so he stared at the dirty snow lying on the ground.  
  
A short walk and the burly man carrying Sergei initiated conversation with another man. They did not speak in English or Russian; Sergei could not understand a word they were saying. They chuckled briefly, and then Sergei was off again. He saw as the snow underfoot changed to clean, silver metal and heard the electronic swish of a door as it opened and admitted the two men.  
  
Sergei was drifting off as he was lifted off the man's shoulders with notable ease and placed on a bed in the corner of a small room. The man looked solemnly back at Sergei as he walked away. Instantly there appeared an almost undetectable glass wall, thoroughly blocking Sergei from any hope of escape.  
  
He attempted once again to lift his head, but instead roved his eyes from side to side to try and gain an accurate description of the place he was being held in.  
  
An almost beige tone hung on the walls. Mixed with the shiny white and silver base, the walls were actually quite interesting to look at. Sergei regarded the black letters strewn across the top corner of the wall. They read: SIBERIAN SUBTERRANEAN JAILING AUTHORITY.  
  
He didn't need the sign to tell him he was in Siberia, however. The freezing weather and profuse snow gave that away. But subterranean? Was he underground this whole time?  
  
Suddenly his brain ached from all this thinking in his weakened state, and he decided to rest again. His eyes closed slowly, and his mind drifted off to the place where dreams are born.  
  
But not all the eyes in the room had closed. Two more hung from the wall behind Sergei's head. Two gleaming red jewels.  
  
These eyes never closed. 


End file.
